“My blanket’s not dirty!” she sobs. Her in-between intakes of breath are sharp.
I try to give her another little pink blanket. It looks almost like the love-worn one from Grandma, but she will have none of it.
“I want my blanket!” It’s her security, her comfort. And it’s gone. It’s in the laundry and she’s upset. She’s crying too hard to sleep. But always with the cleaning, there’s the letting go.
Yesterday, when we bathed the baby, she shed her diaper and her clothing and splashed giggles in the bathtub in just her rolls of skin. Letting go isn’t always painful.
But tonight, for this one, it hurts.
I think about the cleaning in my own life, the letting go. What hurt at first is freeing now. Over two long years, I’ve learned that my security lies not in things but in Him – in Jehovah Jireh, as He’s called in Genesis. Our provider.
All is silent upstairs now. White-blond hair fans the pillow, and jagged breathing has softened and evened. She’s all sweetness. I tiptoe into her room and press a kiss onto her brow. She stirs and then falls fast asleep again, the pink blanket forgotten.
Always with the cleaning, there’s the letting go. Maybe it starts off hard. Maybe it hurts for a while. But with surrender comes peace.
Words to live by:
~ Romans 8:28